


Sceptre of Flamel - Drabble Collection

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Sceptre of Flamel [35]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collecting all of the Sceptre of Flamel short fic I've posted via tumblr & Typetrigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fatal accident

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is one individual fic, most are short enough that they didn't warrant individual entries on AO3.

Edward held up both hands - okay, one hand - and said, “don’t panic, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Roy looked up from his papers, seated behind the desk in his study - a mammoth old oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in the Fuhrer’s office, not stashed away in an officer’s house. He had passed a quick glance over Edward, looked back down at his papers, and then dropped them and jerked his head back up so quickly Edward would swear he saw the eyepatch move. He had never seen Roy’s eye get quite so wide, and as the normally unruffled colonel gaped, Edward held up a finger and said, “no, don’t freak out, I promise it’s not THAT bad-“

It was at that very moment a bout of wooziness hit and Edward leaned into the door’s frame. It was his automail arm that was clenched tight over his gut, blood seeping through the joints and collecting in the grooves of the false limb, and when he braced his flesh hand there he left behind dark red hand-prints. 

Roy was out of his chair and around his desk so fast he forgot he had a limp, the cane clattering over onto the floor. “Ed!” he bellowed, all thoughts of rank and file propriety left somewhere outside the front door, along with about a pound and a half of Edward’s flesh.

It did not hurt as much as he had expected; there had been the initial flare of indescribable pain - but even that was not so bad, it almost did not compare the automail surgery. Then shock must have set in, because the pain receded to a dull roar, and to the point it was almost non-existent. It was sheer force of will, and an automail arm, keeping him together.

Roy hesitated to touch him, getting within a hands-span and his single eye open wide in fear. Edward was still a bit woozy, but he grinned for Roy, through a mouth full of crimson. “You should have seen it b’fore,” he muttered. “Entrails tryin’ t’be extrails, s’not pretty-“

"Ed, Ed what have you done-" Roy’s voice pleading, and Edward felt bad for the levity. "I’ll call an ambulance-"

"Don’t waste the phone call," Edward leaned back against the door’s frame. "Too many questions." He exhaled, and then slowly took a deep breath. "I’ll be fine, it’ll heal, it’s just gonna be a bit of a mess until it does-" He looked up at Roy and could not help the self-deprecating grin. "Couldn’t go back t’base, an’ Al would lose his mind. You’re the only one who knows."

It had been a sudden realization, as Edward had staggered the back streets. Roy was the only one who knew about his new curse, because Roy was the only one who had seen it - who had seen the thing that lived inside his head and took his life over without a whispered word of warning - he was the only one who would believe for a second that Edward had not lost his mind.

Finally, Roy put both his hands on Edward’s shoulders. “Did,” and he licked his lips. “Did Sariel do this?”

Edward shook his head, fingers tightening on the door’s frame. “Cause this? No.” No, that had been a chimera in the sewer that Edward had not expected - he had been following a lead and then it had reared out of the water, an unnaturally long mouth full of viciously sharp teeth - and while the thing lay in two pieces, it took more than enough of Edward with it. “But if he wasn’t there, I would be dead.”

Roy did not look like he quite believed Edward, and Edward did not blame him. He would not have believed it himself, if his skin wasn’t already knitting whole, the wound half the size it had been an hour ago. He should be bled out, he never would have made it out of the sewer, never mind manage to schlep himself back to Roy’s.

Roy stared at him, face creased with worry, as Edward winced. “Ed, what can I do?” he asked.

Edward gripped the door’s frame tight as he felt pain lance from his gut to his skull. “I don’t know.”


	2. sensation of loss

Edward lifted his head at the light snowfall that was dusting the copse. The seasons did not line up, they never lined up between the two realms, but all the same he had not expected snow. He wrapped his arms around himself and wished a moment for a heavier tunic - and was surprised when the scarf was draped over his shoulders by familiar hands. He glanced back at Tiel and smiled, before wrapping the scarf more securely around his neck.

It felt weird, to be back - almost wrong. The sensation of two strong feet, whole legs and arms and his body unmarred by the extensive trauma of automail - it had been a long time, two seasons’ worth of healing, even by accelerated, angelic standards - and Winry was going to have his head on a pike, if she did not killing him for outright disappearing first. Edward tucked his hands under his cloak and, after a moments’ hesitation, pulled the hood up and over his hair.

Tiel followed suit a moment later, tugging her own hood up. Edward had wanted to come back alone, this was his home after all, but Bri would have none of it. Someone had outright attacked one of the archangels with the intent to kill, in his declared place of sanctuary. It was no small thing, a declaration of war against the angelic ranks. He did not feel he needed a bodyguard, and as much as he did not want to admit it, Gabrielle’s counsel was wise. He brought one of the few warriors in the Seventh Lineage who he felt would be the best asset - and better yet, far more loyal to her lineage than any of the others. Tiel would not report back to Raphael on him.

It had not yet been winter when he had left. As they trudged through the snowy landscape, Edward wondered how much time had actually passed. Time had a way of flowing funny between the Aetheric Realm and the world of his birth; there was no true way to judge exactly how much time he’d been gone until he saw Roy.

Roy.

Edward felt a nervous trill in his stomach at the thought. Roy, left all alone down here while Edward recovered in the halls of the healers in the center of the realm. He had missed him sorely, but it was all but impossible to get a message to him without delivering it personally. The thought of seeing Roy again for the first time in months spurred him on to cross the forest trails quicker and quicker. They stepped lightly, as angels would, but Edward would forget himself and sink into the snow in his hurry. He would be home soon - for all their posturing and grandstanding, Edward could never call the halls of the angels his home. It was here, amid the trees and the mountains, a small earthy cabin that he shared with the one person he loved almost more than his own family.

"I’m starving," Tiel’s voice, husky and female, cut through the cold air. "There’ll be food, right?"

"You don’t need to eat," Edward said automatically, parroting the words unintentionally. He glanced back at Tiel. "Although we may get lucky, and Roy will have some stew going. Never could trust him to cook, thou’."

Tiel snorted a laugh. She had been one of the few unafraid of the fact that Edward’s lover was the former demon Samael. “I hope he cooks for ten, because I am famished!”

The trees were beginning to thin, and Edward picked up speed excitedly. Tiel let him run ahead, not wanting to delay the reunion that Edward had done nothing but talk on for weeks. However, when the guard-angel caught up to Edward, standing at the very edge of the treeline, the expression on his face was not hard to read.

The cabin’s single great window was dark, the bottom part of the frame broken in. Half of the roof had collapsed inward under the weight of all the snow, bowing in silently and surrendering to the harsh winter weather. Edward looked wildly around the clearing, in the vain hope that he would spot something, anything that would give him an idea of what had happened. All that was in the snow were animal tracks though; deer and rabbit tracks breaking softly through the sheet of white that carpeted the clearing. 

Tiel was unsure of how to handle this, raising one hand as if she was going to put it on Edward’s shoulder and then hesitating, before returning her hand to her side. “Maybe he left something behind,” she suggested softly, but Edward was already moving toward the house, slogging through the nearly waist-height snow. 

"Roy!" Edward called helplessly, his voice near to breaking as he vanished through the door of the cabin that they had built their lives in together. "Roy!"


	3. alone in a crowd

It took Roy Mustang a startlingly long time to get accustomed to cities again.

A lot had changed since the last time he had walked so brazenly down the streets of Central City. He had not been exactly sure how much time had passed - the days and the months had blurred together. At least two years, possibly - maybe longer. Life without a calender, without many obligations, just he and Edward and a little isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. Time moved differently for him now, he could never go back to the way it was before.

There had been a lot of hesitation coming out into the city. He had hemmed and hawed, lurking for a while in some of the outlying villages. It was easy enough to pick up some odd jobs and earn a little bit of money here and there - he looked younger now, rather than older, and his smile was just as charming as it had been in the past. He worked hard, flirted a little bit and tried not to think about Ed. In the end, though, he had to move on. The girl at the flower shop had started to get a little too taken by him, and he could not afford to become anything more than a passing fancy, just a faint memory of a charismatic traveler.

He tried to smile more often and more openly, the way that Edward liked. It did not matter if others knew his emotions, playing those cards close to his chest right now simply seemed like a wasted effort.

It was a big risk, going into Central. He did not know why he felt the need to go, but there seemed to be a pull there, something fixed in his chest that made him orbit the city that he had made his home for so many years. It was fruitless to search for Edward, Edward was gone. To the aetheric realm, out of Roy’s reach … and if he died there, how would Roy ever even know? He had obsessed over it for weeks, for months; trapped in that tiny cabin alone in the middle of the woods. In the end though, he had to go. He could not stay happily there without Edward. Even then, it physically hurt to leave the place he had learned to be so quietly happy.

They had come to him once he left the protective shield of the mountains. Somehow the entire area had been declared off-limits by dint of Edward’s station. Roy had a faint grasp of the politics of the angels - Edward kept him separate and once they reunited (he refused to think “if” - Edward would be fine.) he would sit Edward down and calmly explain to him that he was sick of being kept in the dark about all of this. It was a rather abrupt reversal of fortune, in that regard - and he had to say he certainly did not like being the one “protected” from the reality of the situation. But he did get a good dose of reality when he stepped past the edge of their isolated paradise and back into the real world.

That was when the demons came.

Demons were everywhere, he knew that now. Even further beyond the reaches of the creations of alchemy lay demons - some were twisted beings, their bodies their own, autonomous except for the desire to maim and mutilate. Others still were bound by the rules of Above and Below - (as above, so below - Roy remembered writing the screed as practice, the letters smearing on the page as his sleeve dragged through the wet ink) - they had to have bodies, hosts - demons took their vessels by force, their bodies reliquinished to the darkness. But they had come to him - not to attack, but to befriend.

Samael had been a Fallen, an angel consigned to darkness and despair. He had led these demons, and now they looked to Roy.

It was a terrifying proposition, not only because something deep inside him had been intrigued by the demon’s offer. He did not want Ed to know that the demons had even approached him - Edward had tried so hard to keep him in the light, that even the prospect of the darkness that he knew still resided inside him haunted his thoughts. But Ed was not here, and Ed need not know.

The wanted posters in the train station were old, yellowed with exposure. The picture of him was a bit blurry, and most importantly, he still had the eyepatch. All the same, Roy kept his head down. He was in the city again, and here, people knew him. He did not want to blow his cover.


	4. what lies beyond forever

It had finally stopped snowing.

Edward wrapped the heavy quilt tighter around his shoulders, the cold creeping in along the folds, his breath crisp even inside the cabin’s walls. He had walked to the window, dragging the outermost quilt along with him, feet bare on the wood floor. The floor felt like almost like ice, the cold prickling up through his flesh like tiny needles. It was insidious, the cold - it wormed its way in and dug around. He shivered, and drew aside the curtain to look out into the night.

The full moon hung low over the bare trees, painting the accumulated snow in brilliant white. The empty trees looked like skeletal hands, grasping toward a cloudless, starry sky. It was bright due to the moon, and occasionally the trees would wave as a chill breeze passed through their branches, stirring the dusting of snow into flurries that drifted away into the night.

It was a gorgeous, clear night. It made his shoulders itch, he wanted to spread his wings and fly above the world, under the moon’s eternal silent gaze. It was bitterly cold and he had flown in worse, hell he had been out on the lake just earlier today barefoot, slipping and sliding across the ice while Roy watched with an expression of disapproval from shore. The cold was easily surmountable under the guise of day - night was another manner entirely. Edward drew the edge of the quilt up over his nose and exhaled a warming breath over his left hand.

He had left Roy asleep on the bed, buried still under a mound of blankets at least four deep. When it got this frigid, it was too cold even for sex. They simply curled together and took solace in the other’s body heat, while the fire in the hearth burned down to embers. 

Even despite the cold, there was a tranquility here that he had never felt before. The soft sound of snow falling on the roof, the crackle of the fire and the warmth of Roy’s body close to him - it was a quiet life. For the first time in what seemed like forever Edward felt at peace.

He started only a little when Roy’s hands settled on his shoulders, over the heavy quilt. Roy too had pulled a heavy blanket from the bed, it was far too cold to emerge without one. He wrapped his blanket around himself and Edward, his breath warm on Edward’s neck.

"Come back to bed," Roy murmured.

Edward smiled, and let the curtain fall shut.


	5. immortal laughter

Roy’s mouth was warm. Edward laughed and tilted his head as Roy brushed his long blond hair away, pressing another kiss to the back of his neck. His breath ghosted across Edward’s shoulder and down, pressing another kiss to his shoulderblade. Edward tilted his head back, this time, turning to cast a glance over his shoulder at Roy. Roy raised his eyes to meet Edward’s, and then matched his grin.

It was so refreshing to see Roy smile. Edward turned in Roy’s lap and Roy straightened, surprised, as Edward brushed his bangs out of his eyes. They had had so much taken from them both, and in those first weeks Edward had feared he would never get to see Roy’s smile again. Edward took Roy’s face in both his hands, tilting his head down so he could kiss Edward comfortably.

It had been a long day, even for as brief the daylight hours were in the winter. Edward had spent the morning checking the snares for game, while Roy chopped more firewood. There was little else to do aside from chores, and once those had been taken care of Edward was free to crawl into bed with Roy, butting his head under Roy’s chin like a demanding puppy. Clothing was optional, of course.

Roy ran his fingers down Edward’s side, not skirting the automail that pressed scars into Edward’s flesh. Edward hated how cold the prosthetic was in the winter but Roy did not seem to mind, lifting Edward’s false hand and kissing the knuckles. 

The cabin was toasty, the fire blazing warm in the hearth and painting them both with golden light. Edward always insisted on facing Roy when they did this, he wanted to see Roy’s face, Roy’s eyes - he wanted to make sure that the person doing this to him was really Roy. It was a small hesitation, but Roy never quarreled with him over it. Edward would almost feel better if Roy offered some pushback, but Roy felt like he was responsible for what had happened and Edward’s own sensitivity to the issue didn’t make things any easier.

Edward bit back a groan as Roy shifted, and he watched through half-closed eyes the bead of sweat that made its way down Roy’s jaw. Every time they did this, every time Roy moved above him Edward felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He tightened his hands on Roy’s shoulders, pulling him down so that their bodies touched as they ground together. 

This, he realized as Roy kissed him desperately, tongue and mouth and heat, this was his paradise. Roy lifted his head, puzzled, as Edward laughed again, but then he smiled as well.


	6. this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

It made sense to not pull the wings out in the cabin - for one, the cabin was tiny and their wings were huge. Edward’s especially, glowing almost vivid white in the semi-darkness, the slightest bit of light catching iridescent on the feathers. It was a very hard impulse to deny, though, especially as they would occasionally make an appearance when he made Edward orgasm hard enough. Roy brushed Edward’s bangs from his eyes as Edward braced himself over Roy, both hands curled into fists on the mattress. 

Their frantic movement had ceased and now the feathers from Edward’s wings drifted down around them. Edward’s mouth was open, he was panting hoarsely and Roy ran his fingers down Edward’s jaw gently. “You always shed so much,” Roy said, amused, as Edward mantled his wings above them without raising his head. He watched Edward arrange them, stretching one as far out as he could without knocking into anything - the pinon feathers cast gold by the flickering fire. 

"I don’t get to pull them out that much in the winter," Edward said, finally lifting his head. The firelight caught the sweat on his throat and Roy licked his lips. Edward still had not shifted off of him, his seed had rapidly cooled on Roy’s belly, and while Roy wasn’t ready to go again that quickly, it was hard to resist the urge to roll them both and lick Edward clean. Instead he reached up to card his fingers through loose feathers hanging near his head. "I hate it when they molt, feathers get everywhere."

Edward sat up slowly, bracing himself off of Roy’s chest, and stretched his wings out again slowly, before wrapping them both in a cocoon of feathers. “You should get yours out,” Edward murmured, running his hands down Roy’s chest. “You never get yours out.”

"Mine are dull," Roy said, capturing Edward’s left hand and kissing Edward’s knuckles gently. He didn’t want to think about how those wings made him feel, and focused instead on kissing each knuckle slowly in turn. "Dull, ugly, lifeless things." Samael’s curse. His burden.

Edward frowned at him, tugging his hand away. “They’re not ugly,” he insisted. 

Roy disagreed. His feathers were mottled, black and gray and white, looking almost like dusty ash. It was a permanent reminder of his sin made real, and a permanent marker in his memory of times best left forgotten “They’re functional,” Roy said. “But not much for putting on display. Besides,” he sat up a little on his elbows, forcing Ed to slide a bit back. “It’s much more fun to make you pop your wings.”

Edward groaned at Roy’s self-evident smirk and pushed him back down on the bed. “Smug bastard,” he grunted, shifting enough now for Roy to slide out of him. “I should turn you face-down in this bed and fuck you until your wings come out.”

Roy ran his hand down the inside of Edward’s naked thigh, appraising him. “Maybe later,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb into the hard muscle. 

"I’ll hold you to that," Edward said with a grin, looming over Roy. "It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to see them."

After a long moment Roy returned Edward’s smile. It didn’t matter what his wings meant, because Edward loved them, and Edward loved him. And that was all that really mattered.


	7. beyond the horizon

Roy Mustang stood amid the tall bare trees, quite a bit away from the checkpoint up the road. He knew it was there - it was the border between countries, and as hostilities grew every vehicle that passed the border was subjected to intense scrutiny. His long hair and lack of eyepatch wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference if even one person identified him for the fugitive that he was.

He sighed, leaning against the tree with his forearm, as he watched a military vehicle putter down the road, backfiring once. He had been out of the country before, a few times for military banquets and as part of diplomatic delegations, but he had never had that wanderlust that seemed to permeate certain young men. Perhaps it was because by then his course in life was already set, by eighteen he had already killed his first man as a dog of the military.

But now, the allure of travel had set in. He couldn’t settle in one place and feel at ease - here in Amestris there loomed the constant threat of discovery. The Flame Alchemist was a wanted man in the worst way; he had been safe in their sanctuary in the mountains, but now that too was behind him. There was a pang of regret that he swallowed down - (Edward) - but he had to keep moving forward. If he stopped, if he languished in one place for too long, eventually his secret would be discovered.

It was a perfect time to see the world.

The crunch of footsteps through the underbrush brought him back to the present and he turned his head sharply, but he knew the person approached, so he relaxed. “Hanna,” he said. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?”

She stopped a few steps away from him, and smoothed her travel skirts silently. Hanna had the appearance of a young girl, fourteen at the most, but that wasn’t her true countenance Roy could tell, even without her identifying herself as such, that wings such as his own lurked beneath the surface. An added benefit - and curse - to his new station in life meant that he could see everyone’s true face. No matter how angelic or horrific their true faces may be.

He had a feeling that she was sent to keep an eye on him. Roy had not bothered to ask her outright … she rarely spoke, and never divulged more information than he needed. All he knew is that she was an angel, and she was here with him, for good or ill.

"The border crossing will be easier at night," she said simply.

Roy rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling the three day’s growth and looking forward to getting to a town where he could shave and shower. The ends of his hair brushed his collar now, his bangs long enough to be tucked back behind his ears. He did not appreciate this ultra-shaggy look, but it was an entirely different image than the one the once-proper Colonel Roy Mustang would present … and often that was just enough to keep his identity under wraps. 

"You figure?" The twilight skies showed heavy grey clouds. They were not far enough north to get caught in the raging blizzard he had heard tell of from the military radio in the pub a week back, but that made the skies no less ominous. 

She nodded her head and moved to stand beside him. Roy cast the girl - woman, angel, whatever she was - a sidelong glance. She had long dark hair, not true black but brown in the sunlight, that she wore in twin braids that fell from under the hooded shawl she wore against the biting winter chill. 

"Hanna," he asked, and she did not bother to look at him. "What are you?"

Not that he expected an answer from the taciturn youth; but she had traveled with him almost two weeks now, always following but rarely offering insight or even simple conversation. It was a relief to his burdened mind to have another person beside him, but her presence raised even more questions.

She cocked her head a bit, shawl obscuring her face and her expression. “I am grigori,” she said. “As is Sariel.”

"Grigori," Roy said, repeating the word to cover his surprise at her answering him. "What is grigori?"

She sighed heavily, and turned her face to him. “A fledgling’s education is sorely lacking,” she said sharply. “Has he not instructed you, as is proper?”

Roy felt a sharp spike of indignation on Edward’s behalf. “Sariel taught me what he knows,” he responded tersely. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t had much of an education himself.”

"That is unfortunate," Hanna turned her attention back to the road, watching as some uniformed men, wearing the winter version of the Amestrian military uniform, strolled up the road, obviously off-duty. "Perhaps that is why I am here."

"You don’t even know why you’re here?" Roy was surprised by this revelation, and a little angered. He had been putting up with her following him all this time, tolerating the fact that someone felt the need to put a leash on him at all times. He wasn’t even a fucking archangel like Edward.

"I am sent where I am needed." Her voice was serene, probably meant to be calming, but it just got under Roy’s skin more. He let out a ragged sigh of exasperation and stood back, away from the tree. 

"Where you’re needed," he said. "Well, you’re not needed here, I am doing quite fine on my own, thanks. You can scurry along to whoever’s next on your magic list." 

His own anger surprised him sometimes. Once he had had a firm grasp on his emotions, but it seemed like that foundation had been torn apart by the demon, rebuilt on a layer of burning, seething rage. Strangely, the person who once caused him the most aggravation - Edward - tempered him better than anything else. 

But now Edward was gone, and there was no guarantee that Roy would ever see him again. Supposedly all angels knew when one of their leaders fell, but he had had no indication if Edward was alive or dead so he just had to keep believing that he was alive.

"I am needed here," Hanna said softly. "A grigori is meant to teach; we are the oldest of the angels and there are so few of us remaining." She lifted her head and stared out, looking far away, to something that Roy could not see. "Your friend has inherited a legacy he does not even begin to understand."

"Do you know where he is?" The words tumbled out before Roy could restrain them.

"He is beyond your reach at present, Earthborne," Hanna said, and it made a chill run down his spine. That was what the other angels always called Edward, never him. No, he was "demon-borne."

He was beginning to think that Hanna wasn’t like the other angels.

Roy caught the barest glimpse of a smile as she turned away, tugging the hood around her face as the wind picked up. “No,” she said softly. “I’m not.”


	8. one life, one dream

The air outside is cold, but inside the small cabin it is toasty. The fire has been built up, fresh dry logs laid across the hearth and the bright warmth of the firelight fills the entire room. Edward is sitting upright on the bed, firelight spilling over his bare shoulder, caught between locks of his golden hair and glinting sharply off the ever-present automail. 

He is still slim, and lithe. Roy lays on his side and watches Edward silently. Although he is firmly muscled it does not overpower his frame; Edward is built like a martial artist; compact and light on his feet, even the bulky automail seems to flow with the rest of his body.

Edward leans back on his arm, back toward Roy. They exist in so much silence, now - it’s a comfortable thing. Edward casts a glance over his shoulder at Roy and smiles, and Roy doesn’t have to worry that it’s genuine because he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt it is.

It was a funny thing, love. If someone had told him six years ago that the happiest he would ever be would be sleeping in the same bed with his underage subordinate, locked in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, he would have thought that person had lost their mind. And yet here he was - although technically Edward was of age now, he looked the same as he always did, and always would. It was a touchy point with him - if Roy thought needling Edward about his height would ever get old, the fact that Edward never would was nearly as good.

"You know, I used to dream of this," Edward’s voice was scratchy with disuse, they probably hadn’t spoken aloud since this afternoon. He had to compete with the crackle of the fire, but Roy was specially attuned to the frequency of Edward’s voice. It sent a little tremor through him even if the nature of the conversation was mundane. 

Roy reached out his hand, wrapping it around Edward’s own. “Dream of this, our cabin?” He was drowsy, the warmth of the fire, their heavy quilts, and Edward here, near, at hand made him feel safe and secure, not to mention sleepy.

"Yeah." Edward was still staring ahead, at the fire. "Us, a big bed, a warm fire." He tilted his head back, his hair spilling loose over his shoulders. "Back when I was on the road with Al, I’d dream of it." He was looking at the ceiling, studiously avoiding Roy’s eye. 

"You had a crush on me?" Roy was too sleepy to be properly incredulous. "When you were thirteen, fourteen years old?"

Edward chuckled, staring up at the strong logs that crossed the roof of the cabin and made a crawlspace. “Yup. You were my first crush, Mustang. I’m just very glad I never had to explain my sudden bouts of morning wood as anything more than puberty to my little brother.”

Roy tugged on Edward’s arm, and he unbalanced him. Edward yelped a little as he fell back, across Roy, who then trapped him with a great big bear hug. Roy rubbed his face against Edward, grinning despite himself. “That’s adorable,” he proclaimed, and Edward struggled to get away, planting the palm of his flesh hand on Roy’s face to lever himself up. 

"You’re a freak!" Edward shouted as Roy laughed, grabbed at him again and missed. Roy rolled onto his back and smirked, and Edward flailed, winging a pillow that had fallen from the bed earlier at Roy, who just laughed more.

"Yeah, smartass," Edward snapped, crossing his arms sulkily. "You were my first crush, eat it up, I don’t fucking care. You probably didn’t even get crushes."

"I beg your pardon," Roy said haughtily. "I still remember my first."

"Your first crush?" Edward was incredulous.

"Little Susie Collins," Roy sighed. "She was nine years old, I was all of seven. I picked her flowers from a garden and she told me that boys were nasty and stomped on them." He shook his head and sighed again. "Young love."

Edward scratched the top of his head. “I don’t know if I should be shocked or not that you bombed out with your first crush.”

"There have been many crushes," Roy said, pillowing his head on his arms. "But only one that I was truly smitten with. It is rather like I didn’t know what love was, until I saw them smile for the first time." He took a deep breath and sighed it out, smiling at the ceiling. "It’s a rather unexpected thing, love is."

"Are you in love with me?" Edward asked, leaning forward now.

Roy snorted. “What a ridiculous thing to ask, Ed, of course I am.”

Edward placed his hands on his knees, balled into fists. “I don’t have the experience that you do,” he said, clearly trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “I just, it’s unusual to me to even think that someone would be in love with me.”

Roy reached for him, and Edward let the older man pull him forward. “Idiot,” Roy murmured, and kissed him. “You shouldn’t worry,” Roy said. “I could compose sonnets about you, and recite them without embarrassment.”

Edward paused at this thought. “Please don’t,” he said. “I don’t need poetry. I need venison or something.” He patted his stomach. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

"The fine art of composition is lost on you," Roy said with a sigh.

"If you want to compose anything, I’m not going to stop you," Edward said matter-of-factly. "I will, however, go to sleep on you before you’re through."

Roy paused, and then opened his arms, inviting Edward in. The younger man slid under the covers with Roy, curling against him with a happy sigh. “So,” Edward said, now that they were firmly entwined beneath the covers. “Let’s hear one of these so-called sonnets that you felt like reciting? And you better not be ripping anyone off, because I’ll know.”

"I wouldn’t take you for a fan of the classics," Roy said, surprised.

"I’m not," Edward retorted. "I’ll just KNOW."

"Ah," Roy smoothed Edward’s hair down, his hand gentle on Edward’s head. "In that case, I shall have to think hard about this." Edward yawned, and Roy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Don’t go to sleep yet, love," he murmured. "You’ll miss all the fun."


	9. gasping confession

Edward Elric crouched on the beach, the wind whipping his loose hair all around his head. It was cold, the wind scudding off the lake was icy, but the weather itself had warmed considerably. The trees shook with the fury of the wind whipping through them, the clatter of naked branches disguising most of the sounds of nature.

He was drawing in the sand with a stick. It helped to calm him down when he was angry, drawing nasty portraits of Roy and then scrubbing through them with the heel of his hand. They fought with some regularity, Edward knew not to take it personally but even so his temper was still roiling, and the fierce wind was not helping his mood any.

The weather had not yet turned foul - the skies were grey and the clouds were thickening. They were likely due another rainstorm, it was too warm for more snow, and most of the accumulation had long since melted, overflowing the banks of the nearby creek and causing the level of the lake to rise visibly. It was not the first early spring that they had had in the mountains. 

Edward wanted to fly. It cleared his head to spread his wings and glide through the air, thinking of nothing but thermals and making sure that he didn’t fly into some wayward goose. He smiled a little at that memory, his arms folded over his knees, the dirty stick still clutched in his hand. He had never seen a more surprised waterfowl in his entire life, and he was spitting goosefeathers for a week. 

It was too dangerous to fly right now, though. Alphonse had actually come up into the mountains, for the first time in almost two years, looking for them both. They were not in much danger, but the military was training in the mountains, and they had to be wary. Two days ago Roy had heard the echo of rifle shots echoing from hills, startling crowds of birds. It was an ominous sign.

Alphonse had stayed a few days with them. That had been a pleasant treat, Edward had not seen his brother in ages. It was startling to look at him, now - he was nearly twenty-five, taller even than Roy. He had pictures to share, Winry was pregnant again and the kids were growing like weeds. Edward smiled helplessly as he was assaulted by photographs, and Roy somehow restrained his amusement until Alphonse turned his sights on him. Then it was Edward’s turn to laugh.

It was a bittersweet thing. Alphonse had a family, children - and Edward was not around to see them grow. Sequestered here in the woods, alone with Roy, separated from everyone and everything they knew. Not quite angels, but no longer quite human, either. It was a lonely life.

At least they did not have to worry about the military accidentally stumbling upon their cabin. The entire area was spelled so that only certain people could find it. An entire regiment could march within a stone’s throw and not even see the place. It was a useful bit of angel magic, and probably the only bit of spellwork that Edward would permit. However, no amount of spellwork would hide him if the military spotted what would look like a human chimera flying around above them; and it was a risk that Edward just could not take. If it was just him, there was no way that they would catch him.

If it was just him, though, he would not be staying in one place long enough to have to worry about it in the first place.

Edward sighed, and started sketching out another portrait of Roy in the sand with his stick. He could not help quarreling with Roy, Roy just had this ability to turn everything that Edward said around on him, like he had a point to prove or that he just wanted to show that he was still superior to Edward. If anything they were on equal footing, now - Roy may forever be more the “adult”, but Edward had far more experience than he did when in came to the politics of angels, nevermind a good handle on most of their abilities as an Earthborne angel. 

And still Roy loved to needle him, to occasionally make condescending and outright snarky comments. Edward wanted to smack him, but he could not bring himself to actually raise his hand to Roy. He could punch him full in the face with no qualms when they sparred, but he would not hit Roy out of anger. He could not.

The first big fat raindrop landed on the sand, smack in the middle of Edward’s unflattering drawing The water ran through the sand, turning it quickly to mud as several more raindrops splattered to the ground. Edward sighed and tossed his stick, folding his arms over his knees and trying to decide if he wanted to appear back in the cabin with an apology, or if he wanted to play the martyr and sulk in the rain.

In the end, it was the cold wind that made his decision for him. Shivering in his short-sleeved tunic, Edward folded his arms across his chest and hurried back, following the well-worn path he and Roy had created in their numerous treks to the hidden lake’s beach. 

If he was lucky, Roy had already let the argument go. It had been a stupid, silly, condescending argument about the chores that they divvied up and the last person to wash the dishes - and Edward needed to admit that he was wrong, as much as it sucked to do so. There was the underlying fear that Roy would gloat, that he would take Edward’s proffered apology and hold on a pedestal as some kind of trophy … but those fears would likely be unfounded. Roy had loosened up quite a bit, and was no longer afraid to let Edward know exactly what he thought about anything. There was no need to hold back under the guise of military propriety. After all, it was just the two of them anyway.

The rain had started in earnest by the time he returned, rainwater soaking through his tunic and dripping from his bangs. Roy looked up from the fire - he was stirring a large pot of stew that smelled absolutely divine, when he noticed Edward’s bedraggled appearance and fetched a towel. 

"You are soaked through to the bone," Roy chided, helping Edward strip down so he could crouch before the fire for warmth. "What were you doing, taking a swim? That’s very out of season."

Edward rubbed his arms furiously, hoping to restore some circulation to his left arm. “It’s raining, you dumbfuck.”

"And you don’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain," Roy rumbled, dropping another towel on Edward’s head and scrubbing his hair, working out most of the excess water and just leaving his blonde hair lank and damp. "No surprises there."

"At least I’m not totally useless when the weather changes, unlike some people I know," Edward muttered, emerging from the cavern of towels. He eyed Roy warily. "Are we okay?"

"We’re fine, Ed," Roy smiled for him, and Edward, relieved, smiled back. "If we let every little spat turn into a massive fight we would spend more of our time fighting than doing anything else." His smile turned over a bit, more into the realm of sultry. "Instead of other, much more fun things."

"Like sex?" Edward asked hopefully.

"Like sex," Roy responded, stirring the stew again. "Or, as I know you are entirely too fond of, eating."

Edward pulled the towel off of his head. “I’ll do the dishes tonight,” he proclaimed. Roy raised his head to look at Edward, and they exchanged the same look and smiled. Despite everything else, they at least still had each other.


	10. leap of faith

It had been six months, and Edward was bound and determined that this was going to happen. It was remarkably sunny, the sky a pale shade of blue and the sunlight keeping the air from being bitterly cold. All the same, Roy was bundled up; his old black military greatcoat atop the long-sleeved shirt and a scarf tucked around his neck. Edward, predictably, scoffed at him and trotted outside in trousers, a sleeveless shirt, and no shoes.

Roy trailed him as Edward bounded along with all the energy of an excited puppy. Just watching him be barefoot in this weather – sunny though it was, it was still clearly winter – was making him colder by the moment. The temperature did not even seem to faze the younger alchemist, and Roy shivered, tucking the scarf a little bit more securely around his neck.

That was no surprise. In the past few months Edward had frolicked out in the snow barefoot as well, ignoring the fact that he should have very well frozen his five remaining toes off. His new endurance was remarkable, and Edward kept arguing to him that Roy would be able to do the same if he just set his mind to it. It wasn’t that Roy didn’t believe Edward … it was just that Roy couldn’t believe him.

He was the same as he ever was. Nothing had changed or was any more remarkable about him than there had been to begin with. Okay, maybe his eye had grown back, and all of his scars had healed seamlessly. He also felt better than he had in years, as if a strangely heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Roy was almost willing to bet he could keep up with Edward’s antics – if he felt like it.

All those things could be written off in his mind, though. He had taken months, long months to recover from that final confrontation and it had taken a long psychological toll. Being trapped within the confines of his own mind and being made to witness the atrocities that the demon had committed was enough to drive any lesser man mad – and Roy was not entirely sure that he hadn’t gone around the bend himself. Occasionally he would catch himself trying to prove somehow that this WAS reality, and not some sort of madness-induced dream state.

Even if he had gone mad, there were few places that Roy would rather be right now. Having Edward around, constantly – once Roy would have thought that a curse, not a blessing. But Edward was full of boundless enthusiasm, and a narrow-minded focus of which Roy was often the center of attention. It was a small bit unsettling for him, but that was the way of Elrics. With his brother restored to flesh, and able to move on from that almost crippling codependency, Edward needed someone else to be the focus of his attention. Roy fit into that slot neatly.

Which all led back to the fact that they were out here today, in the cold, due to Edward’s rather misguided attempts to prove to Roy that he too was special, now. Roy didn’t believe it, he couldn’t. He had done too much wrong in this world to be blessed in any way – no matter what Edward nattered on about, Roy simply refused to believe in any of it.


	11. a path to follow

It was almost frightening how quickly things changed. Edward wore his traveling cloak with the hood up, it afforded him a degree of privacy even among the crowd at the train station, although it had been years, honest years since he had been here. Tiel had no such compunction, her hood down and her vivd red hair on full display. She watched the crowd with wary eyes.

The train station was so different. It was actually busy, for one – that and it was much bigger than what Edward remembered. He wasn’t even entirely sure how much time had passed … time had a way of flowing funny between the two realms, and he had been out of commission a goodly long time.

Tiel disapproved of this mission quite a bit. She didn’t like the idea of straying from the target this much, but it was something that Edward needed to do, ever since he came back and found Roy gone and their home destroyed. There were so few people in this world that he trusted, he wasn’t sure where to turn to to even start looking for Mustang.

The village had somehow morphed into a city. Edward was at the same time impressed by the march of progress, and sad that the small town atmosphere that he loved was slowly becoming a thing of the past. The house was still in the same place, and the old weathered sign – still said just “Rockbell’s” on it, to his amusement – was still in place. Edward knocked on the door, firmly.

A ghost from the past answered the door.

Edward started visibly. The teenager who opened the door was the spitting image of Alphonse, but his hair a touch shaggier and his eyes narrowed in distrust. “Yeah?” the kid asked, eying Edward and Tiel warily. “We don’t want any.”

“I’m not selling anything,” Edward snapped back. “I’m looking for Alphonse Elric.”

The kid looked him up and down, and then leaned back. “DAD!”


	12. chained to mortality

Edward liked to perch.

He had always had a bit of a monkey streak in him – he would climb things that he wasn’t supposed to be on, hang one-handed from a door-frame or window-sill, and generally make a nuisance of himself treating the world as if it were one giant jungle gym for his own personal use. It was frankly amazing the mobility he had, all things considered – most people were simply slowed down by a single automail limb. Edward had two, and Roy hated to think how much of a handful he would be sans the fifty-odd pounds of metal he drug around with him.

Now, however – Edward liked perching. He would pick the highest point and just settle there, even without the wings tilted out behind him. It was almost adorable the way he would park himself in a tree, or on the roof of the cabin, and just silently watch the world.


	13. little one

Edward awoke to the persistent drizzle of a dismal spring morning. He could hear the rain drumming against the roof and dripping down against the window - the room was that murky gray color of dawn struggling through the heavy rain clouds. 

Roy snorted a little as Edward rolled over, curling against him for warmth. The rain had brought a chill to the air, and Edward shivered, automail hand tucked under his side so that Roy was not directly exposed to its metal. He couldn’t fall back asleep, although the rain made him drowsy, sleep seemed far out of his grasp - and as it was past dawn he should really be up and getting the hearth going anyway. 

It was comforting though, lying here next to Roy, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. It had been so long since Roy had nightmares that watching him sleep had returned to being a pleasurable thing to do. 

Roy was still a light sleeper, though, so if Edward touched him, he would likely awaken. Edward pillowed his own head on his automail arm and smiled, closing his eyes. He might be smaller than Roy, but Roy was his to protect, and for good reason. 

The soft trill of far-off birdsong cut through the sound of rain. The birds did not let dreary weather affect their day all that much, and Edward should be much the same. However, it was Roy who shifted before Edward did, rolling up on his side and pinning Edward’s fleshy pink wrist to the bed. 

"You’re up early," Roy rumbled, his eyes barely open, just the faintest bits of dark pupil visible through his lashes. Edward tilted his head back defiantly, so Roy forcefully tilted his jaw down and kissed him. "Morning, love."


	14. cracked pavement

He had been wandering for hours, half-blinded by exhaustion. The milky color of predawn was painting the edges of the sky when he tripped, slamming his shoulder into brick, and fell painfully to his knees. 

The blackouts were more common, now - frighteningly so. Edward wheezed through his teeth, metal hand closed tight over his flesh shoulder as he looked around, desperate for something, an indication of where he was, what he was DOING here. 

The alley was deep in shadow, he wouldn’t be seen by the early morning pedestrians. Edward shifted, moved into a sitting position, and rested his head back against the brick. The last thing he remembered - that was going to sleep, safe and warm in his bed in Resembool, Alphonse in the bed next to his, Winry down the hall. Things were supposed to be BETTER now, fixed - Alphonse, while still weak, was alive again. The military was in an uproar, but they were safely removed from it; on one had come looking for a single AWOL State Alchemist. 

But that was when the blackouts started. Occasional ones, small ones, Edward didn’t think them particularly bad enough to mention to anyone. They had been through so much together, Alphonse needed the peace and the quiet to heal. He didn’t need to deal with this, whatever this was Edward would handle it on his own. 

But now, apparently, the blackouts lasted longer than that. With great effort he relaxed the automail prosthetic and looked at his hand. Blood was dried on the palm, almost flaking under the plates. His shirt was in tatters, and there was dried blood on it, too - and his pants. 

There was too much of it just to be his blood. He had no idea what was going on anymore.


	15. rumble

One thing Roy adored about their little cabin in the middle of nowhere was the peace. They were so far removed from the world that there was no outside interference in his life - he could sit here, at Edward’s desk, his chin in one hand and just listen to the breeze through the leaves. 

He had never really known such tranquility. 

Birdsong, in the distance - the tweeting of some small feathered thing as it vocally marked its territory. Roy sighed and lifted his head, looking down at the blank page before him. Edward did not seem the slightest bit interested in keeping track, or of remembering - and perhaps there were things better consigned to darkness after all. Roy couldn’t help but think that it should be chronicled, that some day in the murky future that knowledge could come in handy. How the demon was defeated, and how he himself was redeemed. 

It was too pleasant a day to dwell on such dark matters. Roy closed the leather-bound journal, and was in the process of straightening out the pages of letter Edward was writing to his brother when something large impacted the roof of the cabin hard enough to shake the pots hanging over the hearth. 

Roy jumped and turned quickly - just in time to see a familiar body fall past the window in a flurry of feathers. He rushed to the window, the curtains blown outward by the wind, and Edward was already rolling himself to a sitting position, waving one arm awkwardly in Roy’s direction. 

"It’s okay, I’m alright," he was saying already. "I’m horrible with landings, you know that, no harm done-" 

"You hit the ROOF," Roy said in disbelief. 

"I noticed." Edward flexed his wings experimentally. "You got lunch on yet? I’m starving."


	16. might have been

The Aetheric Realm made Edward’s nose itch. He was quite sure that he was allergic to feathers (ALL feathers; okay, maybe not Roy’s, but everyone else’s), he barely came up to anyone’s shoulder, and as angels did not have children, per se, the novelty of a much shorter angel did not wear off. Ever. 

Plus there was the fact that Edward drew attention ANYWAY, because while there was a term for earthborne angels in the first place, there had not been one in living memory. They were fascinated by him, liked to poke and point and would not leave him alone for five minutes to even get his thoughts together, nevermind get his work done. 

So he hated the Aetheric Realm, and avoided it if at all possible. He ignored summons to meetings - Zarachiel was his second and could attend the archangel councils in his stead, he had been running the lineage since Edward’s patron fell centuries ago. His specially constructed area was warded to be invisible to all other angels, even those of the highest order - although Bri had invaded once, to eat his chocolate and laugh at his indignation - Edward was quite happy with being left alone. 

If he was off the map, then his family was safe. Al and Winry and the kids were safe. 

Roy was safe. 

It behooved him to behave, to toe the line, to be the good little head of the Seventh Lineage and do what was expected of him. He hated orders, he hated the thought of being a good soldier and shutting up and doing what he was told - but it needed done. If it was to protect those that he loved, then, well - Edward could swallow a lot. Even a pill as bitter as this.


	17. creation

Edward lifted his head, and for the first time, there was silence. 

It was unsettling, completely unnerving. He pushed himself up from the floor with one hand, his automail arm was torn almost completely off. He was completely numb at this point, probably in shock, and he balanced on his knees carefully, looking around the room. 

The spear lay on the floor beside him, covered still in his own blood. Edward’s left hand had drifted to his shoulder, cupping the exposed port protectively, but now he moved it swiftly to his side, finding the blood and probing for the wound. 

Still, the silence. He had not gone deaf, he could hear echo of water dripping down the walls, the clatter still of scattered debris - but the voice. The most important thing, that was missing. 

There was no wound to find. Edward looked down at where the leather armor had been gashed open, and there was nothing. Blood, lots of it, but the wound was already gone. 

What was going on? 

Edward felt dizzy suddenly, leaned forward and the wings tented above his head as he did so, the pinon feathers dragging along the ground. He stared at the wings without comprehension - if, if the angel was gone, why didn’t the wings go with him? 

"Sariel," Edward’s voice was hoarse. "Sariel, where are you? Where-?" Pain throbbed in his side, where the spear had impaled him, and Edward gritted his teeth, his hand closed over where the wound SHOULD be, but was not. "Fuck!" 

"Sariel is gone, fledgling." Edward looked up, recognizing the voice. Tamiel was sitting back against the wall, a bandage wrapped around her head where her eyes were, once. "He isn’t coming back." 

"What?" 

"Because now the time has come for you to take his mantle."


	18. didn't hear

"Nope," Edward kicked his feet off the tree branch, balancing carefully. He was up there particularly high, and the sunlight glinting off his automail foot made him difficult to look at. "I’m ignoring you, you gotta come up here and MAKE me listen." 

"I am not-" Roy stood at the base of the tree, his hands on his hips and his glare on full wattage. "I am not scaling a tree to bring your petulant ass down to earth, Fullmetal." 

"What was that?" Edward called mockingly. "I thought I heard something." 

"I will get my gloves and burn you out." 

Edward grinned to himself, and waved a hand in the air. “Good luck finding them!” 

"I thought you were ignoring me," Roy couldn’t resist in his exasperation. 

"If you keep standing there jawing at me instead of climbing like you’re supposed to, I’ll piss on you." Edward’s tone was deceptively bright and cheery. 

Roy took a step back. 

On one hand, Edward was acting like an actual child, and it was the most annoying thing he had dealt with in weeks. He shouldn’t be encouraged to pull shit like this, and Roy was an adult, DAMN it, and he would not be bullied into whatever the hell it was Edward was trying to get him to do. 

On the other hand, who the fuck cared about dignity when the only other person within a hundred miles had had him on his back just the previous night with his ass in the air howling to the ceiling in pleasure? 

Roy shadowed his eyes and frowned up at Edward. “I haven’t climbed trees in years,” he said. 

"C’mon, Mustang, it’s just like falling off a bike." 

Roy reached up to a branch, testing its strength. “I thought the idiom pertained to riding.”


	19. bush

Tracking Edward through the woods was usually fairly straightforward - he marched without regard to the lay of the land, or the flora around him. Roy would find trails forged straight through low-hanging branches and large, overgrown bushes, as well as the occasional snagged hair or bit of torn-offclothing. It was as if Edward didn’t care in the first bit that he was being followed. 

Or perhaps he was just making his passage clear to Roy, who he knew would follow him, eventually. 

Their cabin in the woods was isolated; there was no road, no path that connected it to the outside world. Roy had no idea how Edward had found it in the first place - he occasionally thought that perhaps Edward himself had built it, but the lack of gaudy ornamentation told him otherwise. He didn’t know where Edward went, when he disappeared - he would tell Roy not to worry, he’d be back in a few days, and he was, every time. 

All the same, Roy was tired about being kept in the dark. He was Edward’s (ex)superior officer, dammit, he was a competent State Alchemist and an accomplished military man and whatever the hell Edward was getting up to he had a right to know. 

(Also, he wasn’t about to admit that he got lonely when Edward wasn’t around. He had lived almost a quarter of a century before a certain blond catastrophe waltzed into his life, he could certainly entertain himself for one whole week.) 

There was also the fact that he wasn’t quite keen on this angel business, not yet, and Edward was not particularly forthcoming with the details. 

At the rate things were going, Roy was going to have to resort to tickling to get the information he wanted out of Edward.


	20. in development

Roy’s house was squished between two other identical homes, on an entire street of identical homes. There was a yard, a tiny one, and a stoop, but otherwise the house sat practically on the street. Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the dent in the lower half of the door, feeling the reverberation through his foot all the way up to his thigh. 

There was no response, so he kicked the door again. After a long silence, he heard the chain thrown and the lock undone, and Roy opened the door, a frown on his face. 

Edward still wasn’t used to seeing the eyepatch, the dark shadow halved Roy’s face, and exhaustion was still written on his features. It had been months, now, and the recovery process was a slow one. Roy cast a tired glance over Edward. “You know, you could knock, live a civilized person,” he said, and Edward rocked on his heels, jaw jutted defiantly. 

"You callin’ me a hick?" Edward asked, eyes narrowed dangerously. 

A small smile flitted across Roy’s face, there and gone so fast Edward would think he imagined it. “Come in,” he said, and Edward shook his head. 

"I won’t be here long," he said, and he felt the familiar itch at the back of his mind. It was second nature now to shove it off, this wouldn’t take a few minutes and it was important, dammit. "I just wanted to-" 

"Please," Roy said softly, opening the door wider. "Come inside, Fullmetal." 

He felt that flutter in his stomach again, that strange buzz of chemicals whose origin he hadn’t quite narrowed down. The softness of Roy’s voice, the shine of his hair and even his frame, as slumped and tired as it was. It was frustrating as all hell.


	21. another page

Alphonse was sitting up in his bed when Edward opened the door, a book spread out over his lap and caught in mid-yawn. “You should be sleeping,” Edward scolded, a tray in his hands. 

"I’ve done nothing but sleep," Alphonse said, and rubbed his eye with one hand. He watched Edward put the tray of food - fairly bland still, as the sensation of taste was hyper-actualized until he got used to it again. He didn’t think to hold tight to the book and Edward got it away from him, marking his page but looking over it critically. “Why are you reading about medical alchemy? The doctors all checked you out, said you were fine. Weak as all hell, but fine.” 

Alphonse investigated the tray, picking up the mug of hot tea and relishing the warmth he could feel through the cup. Edward was still flipping through the book, and Alphonse shook his head. “It’s not for me, brother.” 

Edward looked up at him. “Not for you?” He frowned, and closed the book. “Are you trying to find a way to get my limbs back, because that’s stupid as fuck. I’m used to the automail by now, and you don’t need to be taking any unnecessary risks.” 

"No," Alphonse lied. "I just thought medical alchemy was a branch we hadn’t really studied, so-" 

Edward sat on his bed. “Al, I’m fine. You’re fixed, that was the primary goal here. You just need to focus on recovery.” He knocked his fist against his metal shoulder. “Besides, if you want to fix me, first you gotta think up a good way to do so that won’t involve Winry scrambling both our brains with a spanner once she realizes that we’ve scrapped her prized automail.” 

Alphonse laughed - and Edward smiled in response.


	22. educational

Roy was busy pulling weeds from the small vegetable garden he had cultivated when Edward returned, a brace of coneys tied to a stick slung over his shoulder. “I got dinner,” Edward announced, dirt and sweat smudged across his face; and Roy sat back, wiping his dirty hands on his trousers. 

"Rabbit? Again?" 

"Hey, if you want some variety, then you go do the hunting," Edward said. "We caught a buck last winter, that fucker lasted us a while." 

"Yes, and if I never have to watch you get gored by a wild animal again it will be too soon." Roy stood up and stretched his arms over his head. It was a beautiful spring day, and the sun beating into his back and neck had left him a little over-warm. Roy watched as Edward strung their dinner up, and then Edward pulled his shirt off and wiped his face with it. 

Roy crossed the space between them and draped his arms over Edward’s shoulders, resting his chin on the crown of Edward’s head. “I feel like doing something,” he murmured, and Edward reached back and shoved at his face with one hand, amused. 

"Why does weeding make you horny?" Edward half-complained, clearly more amused than anything. "Weeding is boring. Weeding just makes me sleepy." 

"You answered your own question, love." Roy kissed the back of Edward’s neck, avoiding his hand again. "Besides, it’s warm out. Shall we go to the lake, today?" 

"And see if we can scare the fishes again? I am game for that," Edward said thoughtfully. He sighed, leaning back against Roy as Roy slipped his hands into the waistband of Edward’s pants. "Or, of course, we could always go later." 

"Later is good," Roy said, his grin hidden by Edward’s hair. "Later is always good."


	23. come with us

Winry tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Edward sat in the chair next to her, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted forward as he dozed. He was exhausted - not in nearly as bad a shape as Alphonse (and his automail was even intact, she should be proud of him), but he was still beaten up, white bandages stark against his tan skin and bright hair. 

He had greeted her as he always had, and proceeded to doze off in the chair next to her while they waited. He knew she intended to take them both home to Resembool; that had always been the plan. Their home was in Resembool, with Winry and Granny Pinako - even if the plot of land was overgrown with weeds and wreckage, it was still their home. 

Alphonse was going - she knew he was, the absolute relief in HIS eyes when he saw her spoke volumes - Winry cried into his shoulder for almost twenty minutes, simply happy to see him intact for the first time in years. They were going back to Resembool together. 

But Edward…? 

She wasn’t sure. There was something different in his eyes now, something she had never seen before and wasn’t sure how to deal with. He looked the same, the same weary grin, the mocking flinch when she smacked him, even the way he was sleeping now, feet sprawled out and chin on his chest. 

Winry sighed, and looked up at the clock. There was no reason for Edward not to go back with them. True, the military was a mess right now, and the entire city was in upheaval but they had accomplished their goal. Alphonse was restored. 

So what was holding Edward back?


	24. messenger

Edward Elric was the Earthborne incarnation of the archangel Sariel, and Roy Mustang had not had enough coffee in his entire life to deal with this. 

And what was worse, was that Fullmetal was molting all over his kitchen. 

Edward sat uncomfortably in the kitchen chair, half naked and with a pair of large, almost glowing white wings folded awkwardly behind him. He was leaned forward, hands braced on the sides of the seats and kicking his feet, and he looked somewhere between repentant and defiant; which was classic Fullmetal. Roy wanted to SCREAM. 

He hadn’t been out of the hospital that long, he was still dizzy if he stood too long, he had to walk slowly and with a cane, and let’s not forget the fact that he was down to one usable eye. And then this, this - Edward walks right back into his life with no regard for anything that had happened in the last six months and drops a bombshell of this magnitude on his lap with no warning whatsoever. 

"How long has this been going on?" Roy thinks to ask, finally, the splitting, Fullmetal-induced headache moving from his temples to settle fully behind his one, good eye. 

"Since - that day." Edward doesn’t shy away from Roy’s glance, although his shoulders are hunched and his body pulled in he doesn’t skirt the issue. His expression is calm and clear, as if everything was normal and he wasn’t sitting in Roy’s kitchen with these giant white feathery wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. 

He didn’t even have to specify which day, Roy knew well. That day. The day that the government got shaken from its top down, that the ground beneath them shifted unexpectedly and Edward had his confrontation with the greater demon in their midst.


	25. break a promise

The kid who answered the door was at least thirteen, scruffy blond hair worn a touch longer than was fashionable, and a perfected sullen expression that made Edward think he must practice scowling in the mirror every morning. “Yeah?” the kid growled, and Edward blinked, startled. Had he even come to the right house? 

But the eyes, the shade of the hair - Edward held out his hand, about waist-height, and said incredulously, “Thomas?” 

The boy eyed him even more suspiciously. “Yeah?” 

There was no way this could be Thomas, Thomas was five years old and a bundle of bright, if slightly demonic, energy. Had it really been six YEARS? This was the first marker of actual time passed that Edward had seen, and suddenly he felt terrifically queasy. “Is - is your father in?” 

"Thom, who is at the door?" The voice was familiar, thankfully, and Edward sighed in relief when Alphonse came to the door behind his son. Al, at least, looked mostly the same - older, of course, more lines on his face but still familiar. "Th-" Alphonse stopped, and stared at Edward. 

Edward didn’t look different, he knew. He pulled down the hood of his cloak and grinned shakily at his little brother, who had gone pale as a sheet. “Hey, Al,” he said. “Guess I’ve been gone a while, huh?” 

"Brother," Alphonse said. 

"I don’t suppose you’ve seen Roy?" Edward asked, and averted his eyes. Alphonse pushed past the captivated Thomas and grabbed a very surprised Edward by the front of his tunic, slamming him against the wall. 

"Six YEARS," Alphonse roared, and the kid winced. "Six years you’ve been gone, and you come looking for ROY? What about us? We’ve been worried SICK - Mustang was out of his mind, where have you been?!"


	26. eye roll

Roy sighed as he baited yet another hook. He had been fishing for hours, and not a bite - Edward had suggest that he fly above the lake, the shadow of a large, winged creature was enough to send fish swimming the opposite direction as a survival mechanism, but Roy had insisted that he didn’t need the help, that that was CHEATING. 

And it was, to an extent - but it was also survival, and he had spent half the morning out here and didn’t have a single fish to show for his time. 

At least it was peaceful, the sun glittering off the blue lake, framed by mountains and trees. This was their sanctuary, this patch of real estate that the military did not know existed, an oasis locked deep in the mountains. Roy sighed and wiped his hand across his forehead, looking at the many fishing lines bobbing in the water. 

Edward didn’t sneak around, he could hear the crunch of sand under uneven footsteps. Roy didn’t even have to turn about to face him. “I can hear you rolling your eyes at me,” he said. 

"That’s because you’re an obstinate jackass," Edward was wearing just shorts, his skin bronzed by sunlight. Its bright rays pinged off his silver automail in a slightly dazzling manner. "I’m fucking starving, either you’re going to fish my way or I’m going to get my own lunch and you can stare at fishing lines all day." 

Roy looked up at the sky, shading his eyes with one hand. Edward was obstinate himself, he didn’t have any room to talk. But Roy was being particularly stubborn, especially about accepting help from Edward, and he was hungry too. “All right,” he said, looking back to where Edward stood. “We will do this your way.”


	27. consuming

Edward packing away food like it was going out of style was really, nothing new. Roy sat at his kitchen table and watched, somewhat amused, as Edward demolished a full breakfast like he hadn’t eaten in a week. There had been some thought given to the fact that while his brother was trapped in the armor that Edward was essentially eating for two, sustaining Alphonse’s life with his own metabolic energy - but it had been months since Alphonse was restored, and Edward’s appetite had not diminished in the slightest. 

(Perhaps it was the automail, then, that made him eat like a starving wolf cub? There was no tactful way to ask, so Roy just observed.) 

It was good to see Edward again, no matter what the circumstances. He had been under house arrest for weeks, supposedly under doctor’s orders and not the military’s, but Roy knew what was really going on, even if no one would tell him to his face. Even the Lieutenant had been mysteriously silent on the subject, perhaps withholding information while he simply healed up. There was a court martial in his future, and likely worse - but those were all things he didn’t need to dwell on. Right now he had a bright, blond, source of light in his life and he should enjoy these precious few moments before they were gone forever. 

Edward looked up at him, eyeing Roy suspiciously. His arm had closed over his plate, as if he thought Roy would risk life and limb to removed a plate full of food from within Edward’s grasp before he was finished with it. Roy smiled, and Edward looked down at his food, disarmed. 

"Why are you here, Fullmetal?" The old military title, a safe fallback. Edward did not lift his head again.


	28. just walk by

Edward sat fearlessly on the ledge, his red-soled boots dangling off of the drop as if it were nothing. It was nice and quiet up here, the busy hustle and bustle of the crowded street below was muffled by the distance; up here Edward had the company of birds. 

It was an excellent place to go to think. He leaned back, his hands gripping the other end of the ledge, and looked to the blue spring sky. Up here, no one could hear him talk to himself - if the birds that strutted on the ledge around him even cared, they showed no indication of it. 

Not that he had heard anything in days. It was almost amusing, how quickly he had gotten used to sharing himself with the quiet voice in his head, but the absence was not all that unsettling. Sariel came and went as he pleased; being incorporeal meant that he would drift in and out as he conducted his silent search of the city. Edward thought he was being silly - there was no way that the demons were basing themselves out Central, not now, at least - but Sariel seemed to think otherwise. 

It wasn’t Edward’s legwork to do. He exhaled, and enjoyed the view. He was staying at Roy’s - hell, he thought of Mustang as ROY now, how weird was that - Alphonse was safe and out of the line of fire, and soon he would be done with this angel business and he could get on with having a nice, normal, mundane life. 

(Perhaps even with Roy.) 

Hell, he couldn’t think things like that in public, he had a reputation to uphold. Even if no one could see him blush from where he was perched. Edward scratched his nose and leaned forward.


	29. late bloomer

Roy sat on the raised porch that was high enough his bare feet dangled. Edward had bounded straight out of the cabin after breakfast, wearing nothing but the shorts he slept in, exuding energy like an excited puppy. The sun was up earlier and earlier every morning, and with the way the cabin faced the early morning sunshine hit the clearing dead on. 

Edward stopped suddenly in the middle of the cleared area. The grass was allowed to grow, but their frequent passage made it no higher than his knee. He lifted his face to the sun, the light shimmering off his automail shoulder, and he stretched his arms out before him. 

His wings grew from his shoulder blades, and there was an explosion of feathers into the humid morning air. Trapped within the confines of the cabin Roy forgot how large and brilliant those white wings were, shimmering in the sunlight. Edward stretched his wings to their fullest span, and Roy smiled. Edward looked glorious. 

The earthborne angel glanced back at Roy, dropping his hands to his sides. “You coming?” he asked, and cocked his head. 

Roy shook his head. “You go,” he said. He wouldn’t admit that he was terrified of his wings. Edward had embraced his new station in life, he did not seem to know fear. Roy, on the other hand…. 

Edward trotted back toward the cabin, his wings trailing loose behind him. “You’re coming,” he insisted, and before Roy could object Edward grabbed both of his hands and yanked him to his feet. Edward’s stubborn face, with his brow furrowed and mouth turned down, it made Roy smile despite himself. 

"All right," Roy sighed, and Edward grinned, tugging at Roy’s shirt with both hands. Watching Edward made his shoulders itch too. "Let’s go, shall we?"


	30. the heights

The train stations were busier than what Edward remembered, from his years of traveling constantly with his little brother by his side. It was easier to blend in to the heavy crowds when it was just himself, and even wearing a hooded traveling cloak very few people even acknowledged him. 

It was a small bit of magic - hell, Edward hated that thought, angel magic made his skin crawl but it could certainly be useful upon occasion. Especially if said occasion was to ensure that as few people remembered his passage as possible. 

Not that he had much to worry about, but it was an added layer of precaution. 

It had been a long and fruitless search. He had parted ways with Tiel almost two years ago - there was much to be done in the Aetheric Realm and this quest was his alone. The world was a huge place, it didn’t surprise Edward that Roy did not stay in one place for any length of time. 

The problem, was that it had made Mustang nearly impossible to find. 

Edward was exhausted with the hunt. He had combed the country over - twice! - and came to the frightening realization that perhaps Roy hadn’t stayed within the country’s borders - he could literally be, anywhere. Edward hadn’t set foot outside of Amestris but a handful of times his entire life … if he thought trying to find a needle in a haystack was hard, he hadn’t realized that he was looking at a full field of stacks, not just a single one. 

He had to keep at it though. Somewhere out there, Roy was waiting for him. And someday, eventually, he would find him. 

The screech of the train’s whistle drew Edward’s attention, and just for a moment, he smiled.


	31. hear me

The first day, it was a nightmare. 

Sleep paralysis, he was living a vividly intense nightmare, locked behind limbs that no longer obeyed his commands, eyelids that would not budge even to blink upon order. A nightmare, a horrible one - a puppet of the military, a marionette on strings, unable to even draw breath of his own volition. 

Then it was a hallucination - he was insane, he was strapped to a gurney somewhere, none of this was happening. A voice in his ear, a seductive whisper - let me, let me in, you know I can help - but how could he let something in that was already there? He was beyond help, it had him in its grasp, oily fingers keeping him a prisoner of his own mind. 

The thing didn’t sleep. It didn’t need to, it could run his body into the ground, run it until it dropped and he died of exhaustion and then move on to the next host - but that voice, that damnable voice, he never heard it speak in a voice other than his own, small whispers, assurances. You will not die. You will live, and you will wish forever I gave you the mercy of death…. 

Mercy. Sweet mercy of stillness, of silence, of a break from the torment - bright golden eyes, his twin suns, looking at him with such open trust, waiting to be exploited - the voice whispered those horrible things, the things he would do, metal into flesh, twisting bone until broken - and he would scream, the noise lost into the vacuum of his own mind. 

It would laugh at him. 

He screamed a throat-less voice raw, forced to watch as those trusting eyes were turned terrified against him, and nothing would ever be forgiven.


	32. capture

It had been five weeks, and Roy had not moved once but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Edward kept a lonely vigil. They could not take him to a hospital - every hospital in the country was being watched, just like the trains and the borders. He was a war criminal, a terrorist, wanted in conjunction with a failed coup d’tat - he was hardly safe here, but Edward was supposed to be dead. They would come looking for Roy eventually. 

(What would he do if Roy hadn’t woken by then?) 

(What would he do if Roy didn’t wake at all?) 

Alphonse would bring him food, but he would barely peck at it - he wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t remember the last time food sounded good to him. Edward slept upright in the chair, knees curled up against himself or sometimes he slept with his arms pillowed on the side of Roy’s bed, in case he awoke that very night while Edward slept. 

(What if he woke up, and he was still wrong, still the not-Roy?) 

The third week, Edward started reading books. Without that voice, that know-it-all knowledge base he had come to rely on he would have to do his own research in the lore that he skirted and skipped and passed by on the first go-round. 

(What if Samael was still in there?) 

That last thought, that one was the worst. Without Sariel’s reassurances he didn’t KNOW - he had done as Tamiel instructed, he had used the consecrated blade but he had nearly had his arms torn off, his wings had been stripped raw of feathers and Roy had laid lifeless in his arms and he just didn’t KNOW— 

He would go completely mad before Roy opened his eyes at this rate.


	33. warm glow

Even in the summer they would light a fire every night - rarely in the hearth, but outside in the firepit Edward had dug early in the spring, or out on the shore of the lake where they could watch the reflected flames on the water and bask in the vast, uninterrupted expanse of sky above them. 

Edward lay against Roy, Roy’s arm tucked over his shoulder, fingers brushing lazily at the tail of Edward’s braid. His hair had grown quite long, the bangs enough to be brushed back with the rest of his hair. It made him look different, older - occasionally Edward would get it into his head that he had to look older, that he had to look his age. It was his newest neurosis, one that was more insidious than his lack of height. 

The fire cracked and popped, and Edward yawned, curling himself closer to Roy. “Should we go back?” Roy murmured, the first words spoken in hours between them. Their silence was so comfortable, it was a shame to break it. 

"No," Edward said sleepily. "I’m comfortable, I like it here." 

Roy rubbed Edward’s shoulder with his hand - the automail shoulder was the one between them, the cool metal pressed comfortably into his side. “We could go back,” he murmured, pitching his voice just right and Edward smiled and elbowed him with the automail. 

"Is everything about sex with you?" he asked, the firelight painting his skin gold. 

"Not everything," Roy said, kissing the side of Edward’s head. "Just where it concerns you." 

Edward snorted. “So, everything.” 

Roy’s breath whispered along his jaw, and Edward tilted his head, halfheartedly trying to get away. “I concede your point,” Roy said, as he nuzzled Edward’s ear. “Shall we go back?” 

"All right," Edward surrendered, smiling.


	34. black bear

“You know,” Edward said, straddling the branch between his legs. “It can’t really hurt us.” 

"Yeah?" Somehow, Roy had managed to climb higher, and faster than Edward, although the branch he had settled on was thinner, and wobbled far more than Edward’s own safe perch. "Then why don’t you go down there and settle things with it, tough guy?” 

"Don’t be a dick, Mustang." Edward kicked his feet in the air, staring down at the forest floor beneath them. "You go talk to it, you’ve got that diplomacy thing down, right? You deal with it." 

"Because diplomacy works on fucking BEARS." Roy’s tone was derisive and despite the situation, Edward was really starting to find the whole thing quite hilarious. Roy, who was usually so - well, ROY, losing his cool over this - this was going to keep him entertained for weeks. "You’re the one who hit him with a fucking rock!" 

Well, Mustang did have a valid point there. Although he was only throwing the rock at a tree, and had not expected a large black bear to rise from the bushes while the projectile was in mid-air. “Honest mistake,” Edward said. 

The tree shook ominously. Edward leaned out, both hands on the branch for balance, and watched as the bear stood up against the trunk, huge meaty paws ready to clobber him senseless into the next season. “You know bears can climb trees, right?” 

The noise Roy made told him that no, Roy was not aware of this fact and Edward grinned up at him. “Did you forget we have wings, and can fly?” Edward asked cheekily, and the glare Roy gave him would have curdled cheese. 

This was turning out to be quite the memorable trip after all. And he had had such low expectations today!


End file.
